It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. Sometimes, but not too often, there was some middle ground. Kinda sounds like the 2024 Presidential campaign, but this is a sports-themed blog and I am certainly not going there. Very diplomatic of me.
My birthday was a day of happiness. It was the first day of the 2024 World Series. Long time opponents from the past—they hadn’t met in the Fall Classic since 1981. Lots of history here. Brooklyn and Ebbets Field; the LA Coliseum exhibition game which drew over 93,000 Angelenos to see Mickey Mantle, Yogi Berra and crew; Dodger Stadium in Chavez Ravine, which first hosted the West Coast/East Coast version of this tableau. And of course the three versions of Yankee Stadium—the House That Ruth Built; the refurbished version of the late 1970’s; and this century’s monolith.
I had hopes that this might be the year that the Yankees would once more win it all. I had never been solidly convinced that this squad was a worthy champion. Winning the American League in the manner that they did made me want to believe in them. Then again, pyrite isn’t real gold. Just fools gold.
So, after cake for my birthday celebration, it was time for baseball. The Yankees took it to LAD behind Gerrit Cole and playoff monster Giancarlo Stanton, who hid during the regular season yet reminded us once more why he was a rising star in Miami with almost unrivaled power at the plate.
It was a pitcher’s duel between Cole and Jack Flaherty, a late season addition to a depleted Dodgers rotation. By default, he became the ace of the staff. This was a Game 1 which would head to extra innings.
New York took a lead in the top of the 10th inning. Only to falter in the bottom of the frame. Manager Aaron Boone made a critical miscalculation, brining starter Nestor Cortes, nursing an arm injury which ultimately might require surgery, to face LA first baseman Freddie Freeman.
Freeman had starred in the World Series when he was in Atlanta. Although he was nursing an ankle injury at the start of the Series, he was out there to help the Dodgers. (It was also later disclosed that Freeman played despite a very painful rib injury, too)
Did he ever. With one gigantic swing, Freeman sent a ball flying into the right field pavilion for a grand slam home run. Nobody had ever hit a walk off grand slam in the history of the World Series. Game 1 to LAD. In actuality, it was World Series to LAD.
New York managed to go ahead in Game 2, but there was Freeman with a home run. He would hit homers in the first four games, which, along with one in his last World Series game while a member of the Braves, set a record. The Dodgers recovered to win Game 2, now up 2-0 with the games switching to Yankee Stadium.
Yankees players talked tough and were relying on the extra man in the stands. Some took their job too literally, trying to yank the ball out of Dodgers’ right fielder Mookie Betts glove when he went over the wall and into the stands to make a catch in foul territory in Game 4.
Still, the Yankees bats weren’t coming alive while the LAD pitching was neutralizing much of the power. Sure fire American League M.V.P. Aaron Judge didn’t awaken from his disastrous at bats until game 4, and that was only momentary.
With a 11-4 Game 4 blowout, NYY sought to do what no other team had done. When down 3-0, only four teams had made it to a Game 5. No team ever made it to a Game 6. The odds were stacked against the Yankees, no matter how much their power display gave its fans hope.
With Cole on the mound, New York staked him to a 5-0 lead while he had given up no hits through four innings. Things looked promising, although I did say to my wife that this wasn’t enough runs. Was I ever prophetic.
In an inning which will be remembered in World Series history like Boston’s Bill Buckner booting an easy grounder against the Mets which would have allowed the Red Sox to win in 1986, the Yankees completely unraveled. By the time the carnage was done—the errors in commission and omission—it was a tie score.
NYY would forge ahead on a Stanton sacrifice fly. Only to have LAD come back to take the lead. For good.
With Walker Buehler two days removed from starting in Game 3 coming on in the ninth inning to close the game out, the Yankees were finished. What epitomized the way the team petered out was how closer Luke Wilson ran out of gas in Game 5—over used and tired—finished in what was a game but futile effort. Season over.
Now the Yankees have a lot of decisions to make about retaining personnel. Cole, Juan Soto, Anthony Rizzo, Gleyber Torres and Alex Verdugo may all be leaving the Bronx. The defense and fundamentals need to be shored up (see Cole not covering first on a Betts grounder to Rizzo which would have ended the inning without a run scoring instead of opening the flood gates). There cannot be intermittent power shortages, nor should reliance for extra base hits have been placed on the shoulders of young Anthony Volpe, whose grand slam ignited the Bombers in Game 4.
Los Angeles was the best team in baseball. In my mind, San Diego was second, the Mets third, then the Yankees and Cleveland round out the top 5. The National League was the better league—all of the NL playoff teams were good and Houston plus the AL wild cards— Baltimore, Detroit and Kansas City—simply didn’t match up with Philadelphia or Milwaukee.
It looks like Boone will be back for another year. Same with GM Brian Cashman. I don’t know how any of the coaches might fare. Whatever group emerges in Tampa next Spring, it will be different . What won’t be gone is the sting of such a bitter defeat.
The New York Jets needed to play better. Heading to Foxborough to take on the New England Patriots, NYJ had a chance to get back into the playoff race. Except that the team which cannot get out of the way of itself, gave its fans a clunker.
A battered and bruised 6-2 Houston Texans team came to Met Life Stadium for a Thursday Night Football extravaganza. The Jets played the first half in a trance, drawing the ire of those in attendance. “Sell the team” chants were heard loud and clear on the Amazon broadcast—a not so veiled indictment of how poorly this team played and how owner Woody Johnson simply did not hire the right people to make the right decisions.
The a funny thing happened. The defense took over and the offense awakened. Ancient Aaron Rodgers benefitted from a miraculous catch by wide receiver Garrett Wilson for a spectacular touchdown confirmed by a shin hitting in bounds after a replay review, along with a sideline sprint after a pass for a TD by Rodgers’ Green Bay favorite, Davante Adams, who somehow escaped concussion protocol after hitting his head on the unforgiving Met Life turf after being tackled hard.
I am no more enthused over the Jets chances going forward. The schedule isn’t daunting, beginning with a road game in Arizona.
The mentality has to be one game at a time. With the history of this team—losing to Denver and New England in winnable contests—are their chances really that good? Stay tuned.
I did manage to see Franklin and Marshall thoroughly out play an undermanned Mc Daniel team. As my daughter astutely said, it was going to be a long bus ride back to Westminister after being vanquished 24-0 in a yawner of a game.
I once more saw F&M at Kean University this Saturday, a mere four miles from my house. Kean wass 2-5; I hoped the team could play better on the road—unlike when I saw them lose at The College of New Jersey in September (for the first time since college, I will have seen F&M play football in September, October and November thanks to a schedule which placed the team in NJ twice—which never have happened before in my lifetime). F&M prevailed by a 34-14 score. Kean was better than Mc Daniel, which was shut out 42-0 Saturday at home by 8-1 Ursinus.
My college roommate remarked that maybe I should stick to college football. Maybe he’s right. The pros I root for have given me nothing but agita.
